


In All Moments

by everydayescapeartist



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Catching Fire, F/M, Prompts in Panem, everlark, everlark fanfic, everlark fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:49:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5319323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydayescapeartist/pseuds/everydayescapeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set the night of Katniss and Peeta’s one free day together in Catching Fire.  It’s what could have happened if Katniss had been just a little more aware.  Written for Prompts in Panem Farewell Tour Day 1 Prompt: One Last Day</p>
            </blockquote>





	In All Moments

_“No one bothers us.  By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta’s lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he’s practicing his knots.  After a while, his hands go still.  'What?’ I ask._

_‘I wish I could freeze this moment, right here, right now, and live in it forever,’ he says._

_Usually this sort of comment, the kind that hints of his undying love for me, makes me feel guilty and awful.  But I feel so warm and relaxed and beyond worrying about a future I’ll never have, I just let the word slip out.  'Okay.’_

_I can hear the smile in his voice.  'Then you’ll allow it?’_

_'I’ll allow it,’ I say._

_His fingers go back to my hair and I doze off, but he rouses me to see the sunset.  It’s a spectacular yellow and orange blaze behind the skyline of the Capitol.  'I didn’t think you’d want to miss it,’ he says._

_'Thanks,’ I say.  Because I can count on my fingers the number of sunsets I have left, and I don’t want to miss any of them._

_We don’t go and join the others for dinner, and no one summons us._

_'I’m glad.  I’m tired of making everyone around me so miserable,’ says Peeta.  'Everybody crying.  Or Haymitch…’  He doesn’t need to go on._

_We stay on the roof until bedtime and then quietly slip down to my room without encountering anyone.”_

............

We take our turns in the bathroom getting ready for bed. Peeta goes first and exits, heading toward the bed in his t-shirt and pajama pants. I actually take him in as he nears me. Our extra workouts in preparation for the Quell have filled him out rather nicely. He looked taut and strong before but now he is noticeably muscular, his masculinity more on display. I realize I am appreciating it a good deal. Before I can become too obvious, I rise and head toward the bathroom. Just as I reach its doorway though, I turn and see him bending over the bed, pulling the sheets down. Oh my. I have never paid much attention to any man’s backside before but Peeta’s is…well, it’s distracting, obviously. I turn and enter the smaller room, shutting the door behind me.

Once inside, I think back on the perfect day we’ve spent and though I would rarely allow myself to do so, I think back on the entirety of my interactions with Peeta from any vague recollections I have of us from our youngest years to that day in the rain and that steaming hot bread to the day of the reaping, our time spent at each other’s sides in our first training, our time spent in the cave when he became so much more real to me, and our time from the end of our games to the victory tour to now. I don’t know terribly much of love and relationships. I know that they can have highs, I will admit this. My parents were at times blissful. I know better that they can have lows. I’ve seen my mother become a much more faded version of herself. I know the Mellarks are far from happy together. I know how Haymitch’s once love story turned out.

I know Peeta loves me and I know it’s not like the love that anyone else has ever had for me, not even Gale.  I’ve never wanted a love like his, but then I’ve never wanted to end up in the Capitol staring down the final days of my short life either.  There are plenty of things I haven’t wanted that I have had to come to accept.  I have come to accept Peeta’s love…and to consider it in the same way as the evil of the Capitol is not a fair comparison at all.  But I am feeling very thoughtful and I am looking at all of the forces that have brought me to this exact moment in my life.  And I want to live.  I know that I will not live when all is said and done and Snow has made his show to Panem but until then, I want to live, really live.  I want to feel what I have not allowed myself to feel before because what do I have to fear at this point?  And Peeta…I do love him.  I’m sure it’s not enough.  He deserves…so much.  So much more than me.  But he loves me and I love him in my own way and I want to know what it is like to acknowledge this, to share it, and to revel in it.  I want to know joy and I want to thrill…in a good way, in a way I have chosen…we have chosen.  

I’m not worried about pregnancy.  It doesn’t matter. We’re saving Peeta this time. And this is something of me I can give to him, that he can remember was only given to him. And maybe that can help give him the strength to go on…later. I take a last look at myself in the mirror.  I am naked to my own eyes and soon I will be naked to his as well.  I am resolved.  I am a girl that wants to be on fire, that wants to be on fire with him.  I see the flush on my skin and the tentative smile on my lips.  I take a deep breath.  In some ways, I am sure, I will not look the same to myself when next I stand in front of this mirror.  I am ready and I turn and open the door.  

I see that he is sitting in the bed with his back propped up against the headboard.  His head is leaned back, his eyes are closed and he looks to be either drifting off or lost in thought.  I hope it is the latter.  I don’t want for us to sleep just yet.  The room is dimly lit and it becomes even darker when I flip the switch, turning the bathroom light off.  Peeta must register the light sounds I have made and the alterations in light outside his eyelids because he slowly opens them.  His eyes look like they might pop out of his head.  I am tempted to turn my gaze to the floor but I will myself to hold his stare.  I glide toward him, moving as confidently as I can.  His jaw has dropped somewhat, leaving his lips parted in a way that I find I like.  I sit down on the bed next to him, looking up into his face and he finally finds his voice.  "Katniss?“  I don’t think he knows exactly what to ask me, just that he needs to ask.  I lean up and kiss him.  It’s a light kiss but it’s just for him, not for an audience.  "Is this real?” he asks when I pull away.  It comes out in a whisper.  I nod and turn toward him a bit more and then take one of his hands in mine and move it to my breast.  He hesitates, shock still playing on his face but as I hold his eyes and curl my lips slightly upward, he slides his index finger gently back and forth over my soft flesh…testing the waters, I’m sure.  I reach over and place my hand on his thigh and squeeze lightly, encouraging him.  He sucks in a breath and looks down at my hand, then looks back at his covering my breast.  "Peeta,“ I say, "I’ll allow…everything.”  

I see the rise and fall of his chest and the way he is searching my face with his eyes.  I also see the war he is fighting within his own head.  Peeta is a gentleman but more than that, he has no doubt had ideals for this situation for some time.  I think about how miserable he was when I determined we must get engaged at the end of the Victory Tour because, as Haymitch enlightened me, it wasn’t what Peeta wanted because he wanted it to be real.  I know what he needs now and I know I need to let him in more than I already have.  It just isn’t something that comes easily to me, no matter how resolved I am.  "I _want_ …everything,“ I amend.  

His eyes grow darker with his desire; he is, after all, still a teenage boy in bed with the girl he professes to have loved nearly all his life.  He closes his eyes for a moment and his hand leaves my breast.  I am confused and I feel a wrenching at the pit of my stomach.  No, he can't…I do want this.  He opens his eyes and slides his hand against my cheek.  "Do you really?  I don’t want you to regret anything.  And I don't…I don’t want you to do this to just be…nice.”  I know what he’s not saying.  He, of course, plans for me to live and he knows this isn’t something I have ever really indicated to him that I would want for us.  He knows I’ve never really indicated that I wanted an us at all.  But that’s never been his fault.  If the Capitol wasn’t forcing our hand this whole time…

He’s waiting for an answer.   “Peeta, I’m not good at this…telling you…”  I pause.  It is ridiculous how tough it is for me to put words to sentences sometimes.  "But I…I don’t do things to just be nice,“ I say with a half shrug and an apologetic smile.  I am rough around the edges; it’s how I am.  "And I would only regret not knowing what it’s like to truly be with you…and not making sure that you knew…”  He’s watching me intently, the hope burning behind his eyes.  I take another breath.  "They have made us kiss but they haven’t _made_ me like it…but I have.  They have made us hold hands but they haven’t _made_ my hand feel empty when it’s not touching yours…yet it does.“  My hand covers his where it rests against my cheek.  "They have made us fit their mold for how we should physically look but they haven’t _made_ me see how beautiful you are.  You have.  They have made us be betrothed but they haven’t _made_ me ache for the fact that we will never get to be married.  Do you understand, Peeta?  It’s not them…it _is_ us.  So, yes.  I want…you.”

I can see tears in his eyes and as I blink, I realize there are some in the corners of mine as well.  I mean it, all that I’ve said.  And I hope it is enough.  

Peeta shifts so that he is facing me more squarely.  I lower my hand to rest lightly on his thigh as he slides the hand that is on my cheek back and over my hair, down my braid.  His fingers reach the tie at the bottom.  "May I?“ he asks.  If it weren’t so heart-shatteringly sweet, it’d be amusing considering he is the one who last put that braid there after fiddling with my hair nearly all afternoon and evening.  Yet this feels different somehow and I am mesmerized.  I nod my head and he unfastens the tie and gently pulls the sections of my hair apart until it all hangs loosely down my back.  He throws the tie onto the nightstand.  Then, he brings both hands to my head, running his fingers through my hair before cupping my face on both sides and leaning forward to kiss me.  

His lips take mine so gently and I know that there is no one that would care for me as well as Peeta.  My arms seek him and though I have held him in this way so many times before, I thrill at the heat of him through his shirt and the strength of the muscles of his back beneath my hands.  He pulls back and meets my eyes again.  "If you change your mind at any time, we’ll stop.”  I look at him without blinking and then I slide one hand up his neck and into his unruly blonde hair and pull him back to me.  

The kiss this time moves from sweet to more.  Our lips part more fully and there’s only a moment of hesitation before his tongue finds mine.  I tingle everywhere.  He leads and I follow.  Then I lead and he follows.  This dance plays out within our mouths and our bodies draw closer together.  I feel the friction of the soft fabric of his shirt; he is too dressed.  I want to even things up.  My hands slide down his back and find the hem, tugging upward.  We break apart and he reaches back, peeling the shirt up over his head and down his arms before throwing it over the side of the bed.  He looks like he will move to kiss me again but I stop him, my hands on his shoulders.  It’s not because I don’t want to kiss him again.  It’s because I want to behold him.  Yes, I saw much of him when I cleaned him in the first games but I wasn’t exactly bent on looking then; my focus was on keeping us alive.  And though we’ve slept together quite a few nights now, Peeta has always been cognizant of my comfort and has slept dressed as he was tonight.  But now I want to look and I am not disappointed with what I see.  His chest is broad and smooth and I reach out to drag my fingers over it.  He shivers.  The desire in his eyes is almost overwhelming.  Almost.  I am not stopping now.  Both of my hands explore the smooth planes of his torso, sliding over his pecs and sternum and then down over the taut muscles of his abs.  I can tell that he is trying to keep his breathing steady.  It turns me on that he has to make an effort to do so because of my simple touches.  I let my thumbs ghost over his nipples as I slide my hands north again and he swallows a gasp. Hunh.  I do it again.  He is not having nearly as much success with his breathing now.  My focus on his breaths has returned my attention to his lips and I realize I want to taste them again. I slide my hands up and around his neck, teasing the hair there with my fingers before pulling his mouth back down to mine.  

I am consumed by the passion in his kiss now.  One of his hands is buried in my hair and the other has begun a teasing exploration, dipping down to caress my upper buttocks but not lingering before sliding up my side deliciously slowly.  I think I must be holding my breath as I wait for it and then finally that hand grazes the side of my breast.  It slides away then as we continue to kiss and Peeta needs little coaxing for my mouth to provide entrance to his tongue once again.  As we taste and tease through our lip lock, I am briefly distracted from my earlier anticipation until I feel his hand climb my torso again and this time his thumb passes over my nipple.  I grip his hair hard and fleetingly hope I haven’t hurt him.  He brushes my nipple again with a bit more pressure.  I almost jump into his lap.  I think he is taking mental notes because the hand in my hair detangles itself and slides up and down my extended arm before slipping around it and covering my other breast.  I sigh into his mouth.  Now both hands are covering my breasts, squeezing lightly and kneading.  He tests different fingers on my nipples, his light touches driving me crazy.  I break free of the kiss and stare at him, shallow breaths escaping me.  He is watching me closely but his hands don’t leave me.  Instead he brings his thumb and forefinger of each hand to either side of each of my nipples and pinches gently.  I gasp and after a moment, he tugs a bit and rolls my nipples between his fingers.  God, that feels good.  I tell him so.  I feel so heated right now and even more so with the way he is watching me as he continues to fondle my breasts, making me squirm with his attentions to their sensitive peaks.

My hands fall to the waistband of his pajama pants then.  I may be moving too fast but I am naked here and it seems only fair that he catch up to me.  I curl my fingers beneath the band and as I tug, he raises up on his arms, lifting his bottom so that I can slide the pants off of him.  I am not entirely certain though and I leave his boxer briefs on him for now.  I hope he doesn’t mind.  I am working up to that.  From the look on his face, he doesn’t seem to be minding much.  

He has already removed his prosthetic leg.  Practicality helped us both build our comfort with it while sharing a bed at night on the tour.  There was no sense in him sleeping in it for my sake if it pained him to do so.  But like most of Peeta’s body, I have not allowed myself to explore his legs in the way I am exploring tonight.  I run my fingers down over his thighs, press into them in what I hope is a pleasant massage pressure.  I see a twitch within his boxers that seems to indicate I’m doing something right.  I slide my fingers behind his right knee and he jerks slightly.  He looks abashed and gives a nervous laugh.  "Sorry…I’m, um, just a bit ticklish there.“  Hmm.  Something I didn’t know about him.  I like that, learning something simple like that.  It makes me grin.  And I tickle him again.  I can’t resist.  I like his laughter.  I like surprising him.  I do so again when I lean down and place a kiss to his knee and then a kiss to his stump on the other side.  I look up at him shyly and see the look of awe on his face.  I slide my hand down his calf and massage for a moment before following another whim and rising up to my knees beside him.  I mimic his earlier actions and place my hands on his cheeks as I capture his lips.  I taste him once, twice, quite a few times before I get the courage and move one leg so that I am straddling his lap.  I feel the vibrations of his groan even before I hear it.

His hands come to rest on my waist.  I can feel his arousal.  My hands slide through his hair and he breaks the kiss to lock his lips onto my neck.  Well, lock isn’t exactly the right word; his lips move quite deftly over the sensitive skin.  When he’s paid homage to one side, he moves to the other.  His hands are busy on my breasts again and I can’t help the breathy sounds that are escaping from my mouth. Then, his hands move lower, sliding over my ass, which is a new sensation I might pay more attention to if his lips weren’t also moving lower on a steady trail to…oh, my.  His wet hot mouth and his curling tongue have my nipples erect and on fire in the best way.  I am gripping his shoulders in a desperate way and squirming in his lap, very aware of the heat and the hardness beneath me.  One of his thumbs is on my lower stomach drawing circles, then ovals, easing closer and closer to the central source of my own heat.  I gasp as he grazes me there.  His fingers still and his lips meet mine again before he pulls back and I can see the desire so full on his face that my breaths come faster.

"Katniss…”  Even the way he is saying my name now makes the air in the room feel stickier, more heated.  "I want to touch you.  More.  Here.“  His thumb dips again, not that I had any misconception about what "here” Peeta had in mind.  I nod and work with Peeta as he shifts us so that I am lying on my back and he is lying against my side.  He watches me as he slides his fingers down to the sensitive flesh that awaits them.  It is such a strange new feeling having someone else touch me there.  Not a bad feeling.  In fact, I like the way his fingers are plying my pretty willing feminine terrain.  There are little sparks of pleasure going off within my body every few moments.  It feels very nice and teases at more to come.  My breath catches…a finger has slid into the valley…into what I sense must now be a veritable creek from the slippery feel of it.  How did I get this slippery this fast?  Oh, I don’t even care.  It feels so good.  He has found a spot.  That spot.  And I can barely think.  That’s probably a good thing.  The sparks are burgeoning flames now, the heat licking up all over, lashing me, making me writhe.  Oh, it's…too good…  I feel the flame flying high to the sky.  I must be up there with it.  I feel high too.  High above this bed.

My eyes squeezed shut minutes ago and as I float back down from my high, I open them lazily and stare at Peeta in disbelief.  How could something so simple as the rubbing of his fingers, almost methodic like I imagine it is for him when he is kneading dough or shaping cookies, have such an effect on my body?  Mmm.  No point in questioning it.  This is what I was hoping to experience.  This and more I realize as it occurs to me that I want him to feel this good now too.  With this in mind, I reach up and draw his lips down to mine, kissing my gratitude.  I let my hands roam his body as I do so and something about having been so open to him must make me bolder because I take the proverbial leap and let my hand travel to and take hold of his hardness.  Not tightly.  I am uncertain.  I need to explore the form and the shape of it.  It’s a strange thing too, a body part but somehow different than others.  Like a limb but more interesting.  It has a life of its own, jerking in my hand as I palm it through his boxers.

I’m not sure Peeta has continued breathing since he felt my hand.  Our lips have stilled but it’s no matter.  I’m more curious now.  I break the kiss and give him a smile, urging myself to be confident.  With his help, I ease his boxers off of him and try not to show my concern as I really take in the size of him.  Somehow I will adapt.  I know that.  I’m not going to think on that yet.  Explore.  Yes, I’ll do that.  I let my hands find him again.  I feel in a way like I’m molding something.  Years ago, Cersia, the potter’s daughter and Prim’s friend, let Prim and I try out the potter’s wheel to form a simple vase.  This reminds me of that, though less wet.  There is wetness though.  I see it leaking from the tip of his penis and run my finger over it.  It’s as slippery as I feel between my legs.  I move more fingers over it and use it to lubricate my strokes.  This causes Peeta to moan and I dare to smile up at him again.  I’m glad he enjoys my touch.  Suddenly, I have the urge to try more.  I’ve never thought I would but empowered by my successes so far and somehow drawn to Peeta’s body with a strength I hadn’t realized there could be before, I want more of him.  I want it for me as much as him.

Tentatively, because maybe he doesn’t actually want me to do this and will stop me, I adjust my body so that I can lean down, drawing my face closer to my hands.  I move one hand to his thigh and keep my grip with the other as I let my tongue flick out to taste him.  "Ohhh, shit…" I hear from above me.  I pull back and look up at Peeta questioningly.  He doesn’t curse much and I hope that was a good reaction.  The sheepish grin he gives me as he motions for me to feel free to continue lets me know it was.  I grin too and then resume my experiment.  When my mouth closes over the engorged head before me, I feel his thighs buck slightly and I hear him moan his pleasure as I begin to suck.  He doesn’t taste like anything specific, just like slightly salty flesh, but I can’t seem to get enough somehow.  I take as much of him into my mouth as I can.  I love hearing and feeling his reaction to this.  His hands are on my head, his fingers in my hair.  I vaguely hear him rasp my name.  I figure it is merely encouragement and continue but after he repeats himself and I feel a slight tug on my head, I pull back and take in his chest, heaving with his labored breaths, the tension on his face visible.  His eyes are full of awe.  "Katniss, I want…when I…cum…I want it to be deep within you.  I love your mouth…so much, you have no idea, but I want to draw this out longer. Okay?“  I nod, his words affecting me deep within my belly.  "Also,” he continues, “I, um, I want to do this too.  I want to taste you too, I mean.”  I don’t know what my eyes show in response but I see him bite his lip.  I don’t mean to deny him anything tonight really.  I just, well, need a moment.  I take a stuttered breath and then lie back again, telling him it’s okay.  

He moves above me for a moment and leans down to kiss me. I wonder if he tastes himself. I guess I will have the same experience soon.

His lips trail over my cheek, linger at my jaw, continue down my neck… His hands start a trail from my breasts to my stomach, then over my hips (I wish they were fuller) and down my thighs, before looping back and traveling upward. I never realized the skin of my inner thighs was so sensitive. It’s like the nerves there are reaching out to touch him as his fingers pass by. His mouth works its magic on the small swells of my breasts and on my nipples again. I’ve almost forgotten what the end goal is here, distracted as I am. Almost. But then his lips are brushing over my stomach, tickling slightly. His heated breath is drawing ever nearer to where I am emanating the most heat. My lips part on a sigh as his fingers find me first. That delicious feeling starts to take over me again. And then my other lips are parted as his fingers get more bold, probing further, finding entrance. Peeta is carefully insistent. The tip of his finger teases in and out of me. Then he rotates it in small circles and draws it away back through the surrounding wetness. When he re-enters, he presses further on. It’s slightly uncomfortable but a welcome invasion still. I put effort into keeping my breaths regular as I adjust to his exploration. When he has sunken his whole finger inside of me, his lips find my fleshy mound. I feel the heat of anticipation rush over me. But he takes his time. He kisses my inner thighs and I can’t control the light shaking it invokes. His breath there and at the juncture in between makes the heat pool within my belly…pool and bubble and hiss. His finger moves slowly within me, backing out, pressing forth, mimicking what he will soon be doing with his penis. And I don’t hate it by any stretch. His tongue flicks out just like mine did, just teases one of the lips. He does it again and again. Little velvety wet touches, seeming without specific destination or purpose, but they do make me more comfortable with a tongue touching me there in general. So, when his tongue slowly runs the length of me, it is perhaps less surprising than if he had just dove in in the first place. Still, how good it feels is a surprise. The noises that escape me are somewhat of a surprise too as he continues these long licks through my folds and works a second finger inside me. His other hand, meanwhile, is on my breasts, kneading and gently pinching the nipple in turns. He looks up and meets my eyes and I feel the flush on my face. When he sees I am doing fine, he gives me one of his devastating grins and then laves me again. My own chest is heaving slightly under his hand. My body is building toward another explosion, I can feel it acutely. When he pulls his fingers from my wet depth, I actually feel their loss, an emptiness where they had been stretching, stroking. I don’t have time to miss it much though because his thumbs are separating my outer lips, spreading them gently as his eyes study me. It’s study, not scrutiny but I am female and new to all this so it’s still a bit embarrassing.

“Katniss…”

The reverent whisper of my name hits me elsewhere in my body. In my mind, in my heart...whatever it is, I feel his love for me in that one word and I relax into the bed further. “Hmm?” I manage.

“I want you so much.”

His tongue flicks out and I jolt at the increased intensity of the feeling. He is closer, much closer to that spot he owned with his fingers not long ago, that spot that took me straight to the heavens. “You taste so good,” he murmurs.  I moan on his next lick…and his next.  He finds the part of me that is pulsing for him at this point and he makes it throb. His tongue swirls lightly, flicks, strokes. He finds what gets him the best response from me and increases his efforts there. He’s a quick study. But then I knew this about him.

My hands seek purchase somewhere, anywhere. I grip the sheets. He is leading me to the precipice again and I want nothing more than to fall. I feel so close to it. I just need a little more pressure and focus…there!  My hands move to his head of their own volition, communicating to Peeta without a word my increasing need. He has always known me better than I expected him to. I may be imagining it but I think I feel him smile against me. And then I am arching into him, my head thrown back, my cry unrestrained. Because Peeta has just taken me to the sky once more. I am a shooting star. I am many shooting stars. If his fingers were good, this…this is great.

Peeta has made his way back up next to me, planting light kisses over random inches of my skin along the way. His fingers brush some stray hairs back from my flushed cheeks. I reach to stroke his messy tufts of hair before even opening my eyes. When I do, the gleam in his own warms my heart. His lips are glistening. I realize that is because of me. I move my thumb to his lower lip and brush over it lightly. His tongue flicks out playfully to lick it and I can’t help blushing just knowing he knows what I’m thinking.

“Peeta, you…are amazing,” I say softly.  I don’t know what else to say. It’s true.

It’s his turn to blush. Still, he looks very pleased.  I enjoy seeing him look so. I have butterflies in my stomach, so I kiss him. Lightly at first and then, adjusting to my own taste on his tongue, more deeply. He holds me as we kiss. I feel his eager hardness against my hip but Peeta doesn’t try to push us forward in any way. We just enjoy kissing each other for a couple minutes. Seeking air, we release each other’s swollen lips.

Quiet steals over us again as we stare at each other. We’ve done much so far but not IT. Peeta’s fingers trace light circles around my belly button and I shiver with pent up excitement, anticipation and longing. This beautiful boy. I need him. I tell him so.

“Are you sure?”

“Never more so,” I answer and I mean it.

“Do we have, um, protection?”

The word “protection” seems such a useless word for us right now, nearly on the eve of our potential extinction, but as always, he is looking out for me.  I know this.  I ease his mind with a lie but I am protecting him too.  He needn’t later also think about a child he could have lost.  "We’re good.  I had some herbs from my mom.“  Since my mom is known for helping women in various fertility-related situations, and probably since he doesn’t know all of the options available, he takes me at my word.

He takes his place above me, using a few moments to figure out exactly how to balance his weight. I draw my legs up at his sides and wait. He uses one hand to align himself properly and I am hit with teasing sensations as his thickness runs down the length of my wet lips to my opening. He prods there just a little, wets the tip of his length and does as he did with his fingers, pressing forward and easing back. My slick walls hug him tightly, too tightly it seems and I try to relax to help him out. He shifts his attention back to my face, gauging my reactions. He kisses me, whispers sweet things to me, pressing further into me at intervals. During one of his kisses, he meets more resistance and though it doesn’t feel spectacular, I raise my legs into the air and press my heels to his buttocks, urging him forward. We’ve come this far and I don’t want him to stop for fear of hurting me. He should know I can take more than this anyway. Of course, the moment the resistance gives and I feel a break, a difference within, I don’t stop the whimper that escapes into his mouth. He pulls back and I tell him I’m okay, to just keep going, but slowly.

He does and in the minutes that pass, I adjust to his size and his presence within me as I’d imagined I would, or hoped anyway. I look at his face, controlled pleasure and controlled concern. My eyes steal over his shoulders, the broad pale skin. I look down at my own olive toned arm, my hand gripping behind his tricep. I hear his breathing and mine and nothing else at this point. It’s peaceful and I haven’t had a lot of peace lately, if ever. Neither has he. This makes me smile a little. I see a spark light up his blue eyes as he returns the smile. After that, we become more comfortable with our closeness. My hands slide over his back. My legs loosen at his sides. He kisses my neck, says huskily into my ear that I am beautiful, that I feel great. His hips find a rhythm we both enjoy. Our moans come at intervals, sometimes overlapping. The warmth builds within me.  I kiss his shoulders, his neck, tug at his lips with my own. I feel his heat emanating from him. I grow more wet with his steady thrusts and he grows more confident. His mouth closes around one nipple and then the other. He shifts his weight to one arm and moves his thumb to my swollen bundle of nerves. That spot. The clit, I have heard it referred to as, by those with stories from the slag heap usually. Hmm. My clit. His…cock. New words for me. Strange but exciting words. I understand now what draws the guys and girls to the slag heap. Feeling like this. Escaping into this. Something anyone could enjoy, merchant or seam, guy or girl. I never thought I could enjoy it or ever would. With Peeta’s thumb moving in circles over me, his…cock filling me, I do. I enjoy it so much.

"Peeta…”  It’s breathy and without follow through but it escapes my lips. He watches me, yet I don’t mind. I don’t mind how he’s looking at me now. I want him to look at me that way. I want… Oh yes, I want. I want him. All of him. And I have him. And the truth of that overwhelms me. And it’s such a good feeling, an intense feeling and I just lose myself to it. It’s the final thread and it snaps and my back arches and I feel myself grip and pulse around him as the jolt of ecstasy streams through me. His name leaves my lips several times and my fingers dig into his shoulders before eventually loosening up. I open my eyes at the deep growl of my name I hear from his throat. I see the “o” of his lips and the perspiration on his forehead and the flush from his cheeks and down over his jaw and neck and shoulders. His hips buck erratically for a few seconds and his gasps follow as his arms give way slightly and I feel a bit more of his weight on me. I don’t mind at all. It feels great. I am holding all of that power and strength and vulnerability all at once.  He is still pulsing within me and I feel the thicker wetness of his release trickling between he and I. I bring my hands to his head and comb my fingers lovingly through his hair. Yes, lovingly. I couldn’t share something like this with someone I didn’t somehow love. And now I think I love him more in whatever way it is that I am able to love.

His breathing evens and he carefully eases himself from me. I’m reluctant to be separated from him, even as I feel some soreness from our joining. It’s to be expected. I don’t care. I want to do it again. We still have time. Maybe we can.

Peeta finds some tissues by the bed and cleans us off a little before settling down next to me. I turn into him and he pulls me into his arms. He sighs against my hair and then tilts his head and kisses me. I return it…a serious kiss, a heartfelt kiss…one to remember.

“Peeta?” I beat him to the punch.

“Hm?” He replies sleepily.

“Was this…was it…was I…?”

“You’re everything, Katniss.”

There he goes again.  I smile.  

“You’re…mine,” I say simply. “In this moment,” I add. I want him to go on and have a life of his own after these games, as much as he’s able. I don’t want him to feel tied to me. I’m not sure why I said it other than I wanted to. I just meant it.

“In all moments,” he whispers, before drifting to sleep.  

I pull the covers up over us, careful to remain in his embrace.  I want to stay there as long as I can.  I place a light kiss to his chest and nuzzle myself in further there, allowing sleep to claim me as well.

….........

_“The next morning, we’re roused by my prep team.  The sight of Peeta and me sleeping together is too much for Octavia, because she bursts into tears right away.”_


End file.
